Hetalia: A Broken World
by MasterSmileyFace
Summary: What if the Axis had won the war and suceeded in their quest for world domination? This is a series of monologues by those unfortunate enough to be on the losing side... WARNING: Hetalia AU, Rated M for Mature Audiences only, contents include rape, heavy language, yaoi, and violence.
1. America

_**Disclaimer:**__**I don't own Hetalia, all characters belong to their respective owners.**_

_**WARNING: **__**Mature content for mature audiences only. **_

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**America **

I woke up today, in this hell.

It's always in his bed, my hands are cuffed and so are my ankles. He doesn't trust me free and he has a good reason not to trust me. I'm always covered in cold sweat and the bed sheets feel sticky with dried blood and semen. My legs are numb and everything is sore and hurts. He's never there, he always leaves before I wake up. Night after night, over and over, he has his fun and I can't do anything about it. I'll admit it. I scream. I yell. I struggle. But all he does is laugh, for some twisted reason he enjoys it.

He's a goddamned traitor. I was the one who helped him. I was the only one who cared, but what did he go and do? He left me; turned his back on me like he didn't even care. I thought we were allies, friends, _brothers, _but he obviously didn't.

When the war was over, we had lost. I thought he would've taken it strongly and admitted defeat with honor, but no of course he didn't. Instead he and that bastard France turned over, let the Axis run over me. Not only that, _he fucking helped them_.

They came from all directions, even Mexico and Cuba joined in. And Canada? He didn't do a goddamn thing about it, but that's Canada for you. He submitted to France in a day. I bet they fucking love each other— pun intended. Yeah, I'm strong yet I couldn't fight them all off. The thing was I didn't see them as enemies, the nations I saw were my friends. And it was true. They had been my friends, they had been my family. But that day I had no friends, I had no family. I was so stupid.

I saw his face at the invasion. His eyes were wrong, something about them just didn't seem right. He wasn't the Britain I knew anymore, he was cold, changed. He didn't waste time putting me in chains. We both knew it was the only way to keep me restrained.

I looked straight into those changed eyes that day. Those eyes were the ones I had looked up to; the eyes I had trusted; the eyes that belonged to my big brother. I didn't have to say much, just only whisper three small words.

_I __**loved**__ you._

For a moment I thought I saw something in those changed eyes, it was something like sadness, maybe sorrow, pity, or, even worse, regret. But it was only a moment and it was gone in a blink of an eye, then they took me away. He had turned away as they dragged me off. I don't think he could've watched.

I knew that in that single instance the Britain I knew was gone. Gone forever.

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**MasterSmileyFace: SOoooo... What do y'all think? ^_^**

**Britain: What-What did I just read? 0.o**

**America: Why am I the victim!? I should be the Hero! **

**UK: I would never do such a thing! Wh-why...Wh-what?! This is completely inaccurate! 0**

**MSF: Well... Blargh-Blargh-Blarghity FANFICTION. ;) Seriously though, I think Canada's next... or maybe Romano... If you're wondering, then yes I am evil! :D**


	2. Romano

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own Hetalia, all characters belong to their respective owners.**

**WARNING:**** Mature Content for mature audiences only. Reader discretion is advised. **

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**Romano (S. Italy)**

Today, he hit me again. It was twice in the temple and I started bleeding, then he knifed me in the stomach.

He probably would've done more if hadn't been for that Nazi bastard.

_Not now, Italy. You can have your fun later_.

Yeah, that's what he said. Damn him. Damn them all! Why don't they all just go to hell?

Now I'm just sitting here, lying curled up in a ball, chained to the wall of this cell. It's cold and damp and dark and silent, being in here for hours at a time can really break someone. It's not the first time he's locked me up in here. No, the first was when he took over, he wanted a place to put me out of the way and out of his sight. He hates me and I don't know why. He used to love me or at least I thought so. I used to love him too didn't I? But I hate him too now. No, I'm lying to myself, aren't I? I can't hate him, can I? He's my brother, my little _brother._ But for the things he's done to me, it would easier to call him Satan.

I don't know what to think anymore.

Soon he'll to come back and then the real torture will begin; a knife across the face, slice across an arm, a stab in the chest, but it'll only be the beginning. I'll scream as the blood splatters against walls and his face. I'll beg for mercy but he'll moves closer and I'll feel a warm, wet tongue lick the scarlet liquid on my neck. I'll want it to stop, I'll want to get out of there, but I won't be able to get out from under him. Goddamn it! The worst part is the fact that I'll never die, I'm a nation of course. My body will heal, physically I'll get better, then he'll continue on and on. The pain will never stop hurting. And I won't be able to stop him.

Sometimes I think about freedom, a crazy stupid dream. I don't believe I'll be the one to free myself, then Spain, that tomato crazed idiot bastard, comes to my mind. Heh, it's almost amusing to picture him throwing the red fruit at my torturers. But then reality sets in, the mentioned idiot has locked himself away in his own country. No one's heard of him since the day the war ended. He doesn't respond to any kind of message or letter. All of this also means he's one of the few remaining unconquered nations in Europe, but now the Axis are knocking at his door. Sooner or later, he's going to have to answer.

He came last night. I was there in the cell like usual, I heard the creaking of the barred door open and then his feet scuffle across the stone floor. I didn't want to look at him, but I couldn't help myself. Even the way he stood was different, he was so tall, so erect. His stance had purpose; his shoulders weren't slouched over lazily or relaxed. But maybe it was all a matter of perspective, I was the one of the ground.

Then I saw that smile on his face, it was a small, playful smirk. It didn't belong to him. It wasn't genuine or loving like the way my brother smiled. It wasn't happy for a stupid reason like my brother always was. It was fake, only there to mock me.

The person that stood in front of me wasn't my brother. He looked like my brother. He had the strange curly strand of hair like my brother. He wore the same clothes as my brother.

_Hey, Romano. . . How're ya doing veh~?_

His voice belonged to my brother.

But the stranger that stood above me wasn't Veneziano.

_**I hate you.**_

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**Master Smiley Face: Dunn! Dun! Duuunn! XD**

**Romano: Gah...*speechless***

**Italy: Hey everbody! What's a-happening veh~? *completely oblivous***

**Rom: Vene-Venziano...? **

**Ita: What is it Romano? Do I have something in my teeth?**

**MSF: *LOL* Pfftt... Thinking Canada or China wil be next... Until next time! ;)**


	3. Canada

_**Disclaimer:**__** I don't Hetalia, all characters belong to their one and only creator.**_

_**WARNING:**__** Well... I guess this chapter really isn't all that bad but. . . Mature content for mature audiences only, Reader discretion is advised. **_

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**Canada**

The world really is cruel, isn't it? Please, don't try to tell me otherwise.

It's raining again today. It's been raining a lot lately. Or maybe it always rained this much and I didn't notice until now. I guess things seemed sunnier when people were actually happy. Nowadays I barely see anyone with even a smile, a real smile, not like the fake ones Italy has, or the twisted ones Britain puts on, or even those scary ones Germany has. France just doesn't try anymore. I can understand that.

Living with him, France, really isn't all that bad. The food is good. The house is big so I can find places where I can be alone. There's even a huge garden in the backyard. Really, I can do whatever I want as long as I don't leave the grounds.

Yes, sometimes he takes me to his room and we sleep together, but that's all we do, honest. Well, I don't really sleep. I only lie there beside him and stare up at the ceiling or the wall. Kumakouchi sleeps on the floor since there isn't enough room on the bed. I've noticed that France moves around in his sleep a lot; he's almost restless. Every once in a while I'll hear him mumbling something unintelligible, but sometimes I can make out a few words like _No, I can't, or Stop._ Other times he'll say names of nations like mine, Britain, America, or Germany. Sometimes he'll even wake up in the middle of the night covered in a cold sweet and panting, he thinks I'm asleep but I'm not. I feel sorry for him. I think he's having nightmares.

Once I tried asking him about the nightmares. I figured it would be better for him to talk to someone about it. He looked at me strangely and hesitated to answer, but in the end he just waved it off.

_You don't need to worry about me._

That's all he said as he turned away.

After giving it some thought, I think the reason he wants me with him at night is because he thinks that if I'm there, then he won't have to face the nightmares alone. But the thing is. . . it hasn't been working. I wish he would just talk to me about it. I really believe he needs someone to talk with, yet he won't open up. It's not like him to keep his feelings bottled up inside, not like him at all. But I shouldn't be all that surprised, no one's been acting like their usual selves since the war ended.

As I look out the window to the rainy gray sky, I remember that day. It was a rainy day too, that day. It seems as if all the bad things happen on rainy days. The Allies had lost, a formal surrender was to take place. America and I hadn't heard anything from across the Atlantic, which was strange for a day like that, then they came. It was a surprise attack, our own Allies fought against us, invaded us, _attacked us. _ I surrendered within the day, but America resisted. When I look back on it, I truly regret not helping him out, yet I knew if I fought back, my own people, my country would only suffer. Was I being too selfish? I might never know. But we both knew that day. . . there was no chance for us two, alone, to take on the Axis and our former Allies.

I don't think America would accept that fact. He still doesn't today.

I saw him once, with Britain. He's nothing but a shell of former self now. His hands were cuffed behind his back and Britain had him on a chain like some dog. France only gave a slight disapproving sigh with a shake of his head, but Britain glared back. It's strange to see a country like America look so. . . weak. It's just not right. Is anything right anymore? I hate the way he looks so helpless, so down. It's not the America I know anymore.

But then I caught a glimpse into those eyes of his. They were still the bright, clear blue and they still had a certain determination within them. They burned with a sort of passion, a defiance that only America could still have. He looked straight at me. In those bright blues, I saw promise be made, a promise that couldn't be kept but made anyway. It was a promise for freedom. For a moment, I let myself believe in those eyes and I wanted so bad for every thing those eyes stood for to be true. For a moment, I had a beautiful thing called hope.

When he left, he smiled me. It was a sad, small smile, but a real smile nonetheless. It was something I hadn't seen in a long time. No conversation had been exchanged, but at the same time millions of words had been said.

The sun's coming out now. Maybe it's a sign from whoever's up there himself. Kumomouji is waking from his nap on my lap. He takes a paw of his and scratches behind his ear.

_Who are you?_

_I'm Canada._

Yes, maybe one day, in even a cruel, broken world like this, maybe people will smile again.

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**MSF: Forgive me for a long and sappy chapter, but I figure it's time for a long and sappy chapter! :P**

**France: That, NOW that was a peice of art mon ami! **

**Canada: I'm.. a main character? Thank you! ^-^**

**MSF: Aww I love you guys too! 333 XD Next time- China! **


	4. China

**DISCLAIMER: ****I don't own Hetalia or any characters from it. **

**Warning: ****Mature content for mature audiences only. Reader discretion is advised. **

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**China**

I am running fast. It is dark, a moonless night. With only the light of the stars, I can barely tell where I am going. I feel the leafs crunch under my feet and through the bamboo forest, I see other bodies in front of me. Bamboo? I know this place. . .don't I? I hear their voices urging me to run faster.

_China! Come on!_

It is a girl's voice and it sounds almost familiar. . . Taiwan?

_Run faster!_

. . . Hong Kong?

Suddenly, my foot catches on a something. I trip and fall hard to the ground.

_China!_

It was Taiwan's voice again.

_No, go on without me. An old man like me can't keep up with you._

I hear myself say the words.

_But-no, We-_

Hong Kong again. He sounds desperate not to leave me, but he is suddenly stopped.

_Okay, let's go._

It is a different voice, it sounds so young but it has matured beyond its years. . . Korea?

I hear them begin to move again and their footsteps get farther and farther away from me. I do not feel sad, in truth I do not know what I feel. I turn on my back and look up at the moonless sky. The stars twinkle but their sparkling does little to comfort me. Then I hear it. A small swift _whoosh _that could be mistaken for a breath of wind, but I know exactly what it is. It is him.

I am right after all. I hear a soft crunching of leafs as he lands on the ground. His footsteps are nearly silent as he walks closer to me. I see his figure in front of me; a shadowy silhouette of death. He lowers himself on top of me. With him pinning me down, I do not resist; it would only be useless. He leans back and draws his blade. In a faint reflection, I see my own terrified eyes. I feel my heart pounding out of my chest. Of course I am terrified, I am about to die. No, he would never do something as merciful as that.

I feel the cold, hard steel being pushed against my neck. Is he really going to kill me now? I have to ask him the question, but this time no words come out.

I see him tilt his head, as if he had heard my question and was thinking to answer. Then he slowly moves his head from side to side, he leans in closer to me, the blade never leaves my neck, and he whispers something in my ear.

_China. . ._

**_NO!_**

I wake up with a start, panting and sitting up in bed. For a moment, I forget where I am. I find my chest and right arm to be covered in bandages. I feel my forehead to find I am covered in a cold sweat. The room is dark with light only coming from an open window, unlike my nightmare, the moon is full tonight.

_You're awake._

That voice again, it must be Korea.

He sits facing me in a chair on the left side of the bed. Again, it is too dark to see anything but a shadowy silhouette, but this time I know the person is a friend. He sits slightly slouched over, as if tired and old, kind of like me. I wonder if he has been awake all night.

I see him shake his head yes, as if he had heard my thoughts. Am I becoming too easy to read? He tells me that Taiwan and Hong Kong wanted to stay up too, but couldn't. He says they're on the other side and should be sleeping. I turn to find he's correct, both of them are huddled together with blankets, their faces content, peacefully asleep. I feel as if I almost resent them. It has been a long time since I have had a peaceful night.

Absent-mindedly, I place my hand on my chest over the bandages. I feel a sharp pain to where my injury is located. I bite down, grinding my teeth to suppress a scream. Korea must have noticed, he tells me not to worry so much.

_Your injuries will heal. . . But the pain in your heart won't be as easily gone away._

I blink once and tilt my head at the boy, no man, beside me. Indeed, in the time like this, Korea has seem to grown up in a way I had never noticed before. He wasn't as childish or as foolish as before, and all at the same time, I felt as if his change in personality was all my fault.

I ask him when he had gotten so wise. He blinks once, then twice again. I see the shining reflection of a tear roll down his cheek. He shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders. He tells me that he never was wise, and is still not wise today. I know he is lying, but it's not just to me, it might be to himself as well.

With a sigh, he stands and places a hand on my shoulder and gently pushes me back to lie down. He says I need to rest and so does he. He sits back down in his chair and almost immediately his head nods down and his body goes limp as he falls asleep. The position he's in appears uncomfortable but he is sleeping, so I guess it wouldn't matter. He must have been tired. Then I realize, the bed I lay on is the only bed in the room.

Sometimes I can forget how much they care about me.

For a while, I try to fall back asleep, but sleep won't come to me. I end up lying in bed for I don't know how long. Surprisingly, they're all quiet sleepers. My eyes catch a glimpse of the full moon outside. It reminds me of a night so long ago. . . It was a night with him. Since no one's awake, I let myself smile. . .I can almost imagine sitting there on the porch with him next to me. We'll never have nights like that again.

_Japan, what happened to you?_

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I don't know where I am, but it doesn't matter. I see Taiwan on the floor; she looks scared and fear fills her eyes. Honk Kong is beside her. He has his arms around her, holding her, protecting her. He's shouting something, but I can't make out the words. They don't face me, instead they face him.

He stands tall, menacing, he looks angry. He's shouting something too, but I can't make out what he says either. Then his hands move to the sheath and he begins to draw his sword.

Suddenly, Korea comes into the picture. He stands between him and the pair. Japan stops drawing his weapon. Korea starts shouting, but I still can't make anything out. I can tell he is desperate. Tears come down his face like rain as he begs for their lives.

But the enemy they face does not care. He raises his sword, ready to strike down. Korea stops, frozen in terror and as the sword comes down. . .

_**NO!**_

Suddenly, I'm there too. I've pushed Korea out of the way. Instead of hitting its intended target, the blade strikes me on my right arm. A scream fills the air as I cradle my bloody arm.

I still don't know whose scream it was.

I hear them calling my name, Taiwan, Hong Kong, Korea. But their voices sound far away, muted, and unable to reach me. Everything seems to go dark, because now the only person I see is him. I'm on my knees now. The pain in my arm is almost too much for me to handle, but I know it's nothing compared to the pain I am going to feel. ,

I look up at him, at the face I once knew so well, at the little brother I once had. His hand holds the bloodied sword to his right side and his hand grips it harshly. It's almost as if he was holding on to his last piece of sanity. But that's not true, he had lost his sanity a long time ago. We both knew it, yet he did not want to accept it.

I say his name aloud. He tilts his head at me as if trying to understand someone speaking a foreign language. I ask him why he's doing this, why he's hurting the ones he once loved and ones who once loved him. I tell him we still love him, that I still love him. I tell him that things could go back to the way they were before. But even as I say all these things, those dark, detached eyes do not show any emotion. He seems to stare at me like that lost child I had found in the bamboo forest a long, long time ago.

A sudden, splicing pain rips through my chest. He brought his sword down on me. I'm too surprised to scream. A scarlet liquid spatters on the floor and I fall to the ground at his feet. He steps away as I cough up blood. I sense that he doesn't want to see this. His legs twitch, but he resists the urge to run away. My vision becomes cloudy and the world is consumed by black. Is this what it's like to die? But before I do pass out, I hear him say a few words to me.

_You're mistaken. No one can love me. . . __**Not anymore.**_

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**MSF: SOooo. . . Again forgive me for another long and kind of sappy chapter. Haha! Thank you guys for the follows and favs, it's nice to know someone out there appreciates me! Next time~ either Lithuania or someone else ;)**


	5. Sealand

**_DISCLAIMER: _****_I don't own Hetalia or any characters from it. _**

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**Sealand**

I went to the world conference center today, that's where they hold all the world meetings. But no one was there.

No one's been there for a while now and the tables, chairs and everything's gotten dusty. I can draw faces on the windows too! Even the air's dusty, I sneeze when I go in.

The place seems to have a lonely, almost empty feeling. There use to be so many countries here but lately no countries have wanted to hold a world meeting. I remember the times when everyone talked loudly and yelled at each other; things were fun back then, but now it's so quiet. It's like the world was colorful, and now everything's gone black and white. It's been like that since the war ended. How am I suppose to become a nation if no one comes a meeting to recognize me?!

I haven't been able to contact anyone much, when I do they all sound sad and say they don't feel like talking to me. First I had tried calling America, but he wouldn't even answer the door! It was like he wasn't even home. Then I had tried France, for a strange reason what's-his-name-with-the-polar-bear answered. He said that France wasn't talking to anyone, then closed the door on me. After that I went to Spain's, Italy's, Austria's, China's, Germany's and even all the Nordics' houses! But no one would answer! At least when I went to Russia's, Japan's and Switzerland's houses somebody answered, but it was never the real country who owned the house: for Russia it was Latvia; for Japan it was Korea; and for Switzerland it was Lichtenstein. And they said no one was wanting or feeling like talking with me! It's like the world's just been broken!

Though I really didn't want to go, I finally went to Britain's house. It was the only one I hadn't tried. For a reason I didn't really understand, I felt a little frightened when I went there. Maybe it just because getting dark. I hadn't seen Britain since the war ended, and I. . . felt as if I didn't want to see him.

When I knocked, as usual no one answered. None of the lights were even on inside, so I assumed no one was home. I practically gave a sigh of relief. I turned to go, but then I heard the door creak open behind me. What?! G-Ghost?!

_Sealand?_

It wasn't a ghost! It was Britain! I turned back, finally happy to see someone but. . . the person I saw wasn't Britain.

I mean it _was_ Britain, but it _wasn't _Britain all the same. He had kind of messy hair like Britain, bushy eyebrows like Britain, and Britain's voice, but he looked tired and I saw dark rings around his eyes, he slouched over in a really ungentlemanly like manner, his clothes were unkempt and stained with dark red stains. He was hiding his right arm behind him, but the sleeve that I could see was covered in a dark red stain.

_Britain. . .?_

I said his name, but it had come out like a question. I hadn't meant it like that, but I felt nervous and I couldn't help myself. Truthfully, Britain was scary looking that day.

He didn't respond right away, instead he looked down to the ground. His eyes looked sad as if he was disappointed with himself. He moved his head back up to look at me, then his green eyes shined again. I saw the tiniest bit of happiness, yet slight aggravation and it was like the Britain I knew was back.

_Sealand. . . I'm- __**Ahhh**_**!**

Britain suddenly stumbled, his hand went his head like he was shot or something. He had lost his footing and leaned against the door for support. I couldn't see his eyes anymore.

I couldn't help myself; I started panicking.

_Britain? Britain! Are you injured? Do you need a doctor? Does this have something to do with the red stains-_

**_No!_**

He stopped me from getting any closer.

_Sealand. . . S-Stay back!_

His voice sounded strained. It was if he was fighting to get every word out.

_Please. . . Sealand. You'll. . . You'll have to forgive me later._ . .

Not only did he sound strained, but he sounded weak too. But Britain, weak? I know, it sounds impossible, doesn't it?

_Sealand. I. . . need you to. . .promise me something._

_What is it?_

_I want you to stay out of it. Out. . .of everything. I. . . need you to go. . .home and stay. . .there away from. . . everyone._

By this point he had trouble breathing and was wheezing in every breath. I wanted to help him so bad, but he kept telling me not to. . .

_But Britain, I can't-_

_Sealand. I know you might. . . not want to do that. . . But I need you to do it for. . . for me. . ._

There was something about the way he said it to me, something that I couldn't just refuse. I guess the only way I could describe is like if I did deny what he said, it would be like denying a dying man's last wish.

_Alright, I promise. But only because you asked me._

_Thank you._

I heard such relief in his voice. He kept saying it over again. It was like he was telling himself he was doing the right thing.

_**Thank you, Sealand.**_

The last thank you was more like a good-bye. Not the kind of casual see-you-later good-bye, but like saying good-bye to someone you'll never see again. But why would Britain say something like that?

He smiled a sad smile and began to close the door. Suddenly, I didn't want him to go away from me. I felt as if I wouldn't see again for a long, long time.

**_Britain, wait!_**

But the door closed on me. And like the setting sun, Britain was gone.

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**Ah**

**Ah.. man this chapter was actually a bit heartbreaking to write. Britain, what are you doing?! D: You might find out next chapter~! Then again you might not. ;) **

**Oh gee, just realizing lots of characters might be acting totally OOC, but please forgive me, this is my first Hetalia fanfic. Thanks for reading! :D**


	6. Liechtenstein Part 1

**Disclaimer: ****That's right, I don't own a molecule of the Hetalia franchise. ;A;**

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**Lichtenstein**

**Part 1**

Big brother doesn't smile anymore. I mean it's not like he smiled much before the war, but now he just refuses to be even happy. The house has a sad feeling to it and big brother's mood doesn't help. I don't think he can help it though, even I find it hard to smile in a time like this. The sun still shines and the flowers still look pretty, but nothing's like it use to be. I find myself wishing it were.

Big brother spends most of his time in his office. He locks himself in there for hours at a time. Sometimes he doesn't come out til even after dinner. I wonder what he does in there all alone. When he does come put, he looks tired, almost exhausted. I tried asking him once, but he wouldn't hear of it.

One night when I passing by his office, the door was left a crack open. And big brother wasn't in there. I went in.

It was only just passed sundown and the first few stars were coming out. The curtains were left open and there were no lights on in the office. From what I could see, the room was an absolute mess. Books lay half open on the floor, papers were everywhere, I saw diagrams and blueprints of weapons and vehicles hanging on the walls. Was my big brother preparing for war?

But most of all, I saw maps. There were everywhere in the chaos of the room. Some were world maps, others were maps of single countries or continents. I looked to see some of the maps had writing on them. Arrows pointing in one direction to another across borders and in the oceans; words like _offensive, defensive, invade_, and _attack_ were scrawled out in my big brother's quick handwriting; country names were marked out and replaced with words like_ British Control, German Empire,_ or _Japanese Territory_. And these were only the maps on the floor.

I turned back to where my big brother's desk was. Like the rest of the room, the desk was a cluttered chaotic mess with papers and pens everywhere. I walked around to the other side that had big brother's swivel chair on it. It was a worn down, wooden chair with some leather cushions. There was nothing fancy or extensive about it, just like what big brother likes. Carefully, I sat down in it. It wasn't overly comfortable, but just enough to do the job. I rotated once around and I smiled to myself. The chair creaked a little but not much. Yes, swivel chairs were still as fun as they use to be.

I stopped myself with my feet so I could face the desk. I scooted myself closer to it so I could see the contents. Most of the items on the desk were cleared away to accommodate one big map of Europe. Like the rest of the maps, this map had arrows and markings on it. Most of the arrows pointed away from big brother's country and to Mr. Germany's country. I saw the words _take offensive, will hold front, too strong,_ and _too weak_. I saw an arrow from Mr. Italy's country to big brother's and the words _will invade from south_. The writing there looked as if was scribbled in a haste, maybe anger. . .

I closed my eyes and shook my head to stop myself from examining much more of the map. I looked over to the side where a notepad with more writing lay. It was more of a list of things, though some things were crossed out and several things were rewritten, but I could still make out some of the words. _Hungarian Resistance? Spanish neutrality? American Rebels? Canadian Rebels? Can't rely on anyone. _The last of the words barred me a bit. If big brother was preparing for war, would he be going at it alone?

_No, of course not._ I had thought to myself. _Big brother isn't a warmonger, he would never. . ._But times were different, _are _different. Nothing's like it use to be, not even big brother.

I never told big brother of how I snuck into his office. He still goes in there almost everyday, completely unaware that I now know what's going on in that room. I think telling him would be bad. It's not like I'm lying to him, he hasn't asked me about anything, so I'm technically not lying to him. I've never lied to big brother. But I still don't understand, all that planning, all that thinking, all the maps and the notes and yet there's been no action. He hasn't been doing anything. And I'm not sure if anything will ever happen.

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**Okay so instead of making this one big chapter, I decided to split Liechtenstein's chapter into two parts. Part two will be up next~! Until next time, adios! ;)**


	7. Spain

**Disclaimer: ****I don't own Hetalia. No, really I don't. **

**Warning:****Mature content for mature audiences only. Reader discretion is advised.**

**_AN: Okay so I said there would Liechtenstein Part 2 next, but Spain was literally begging on his knees for me to write his chapter. So here you go! I did so and gave him a tomato for good measure._**

* * *

**Spain**

_What am I doing to myself?_

I ask out loud to no one. Strangely, I'm alone in a place I rarely ever go, my office. My head is in my hands and my elbows rest on the desk as I slouch over. An empty bottle of _Sangria _lies on the floor next to me, another half empty bottle of the cursed sweet liquor is on the desk next my wine glass, which is also half empty. I'm drinking myself to death. But it doesn't matter; I've got nothing left to live for anymore. Everything was taken away on that fateful day the war ended

My country is falling apart. All the land and sea borders were blocked by my boss. He believed an isolationist policy and a declaration of neutrality would be best. Gas and electricity have become a rarity, even now the cities no longer light up the night. Famine and drought have spread across the land; even the tomato harvest was not good this year. The streets lay nearly deserted all day, people only come out in a desperate search for food or water that they probably won't find. It's the same for me. _Mi casa_, my house has become my prison, and probably soon my tomb. The window in my office has become an observation place where I can watch the broken, dying world around me.

How many times have I relived the memories in my head? How many times do I curse myself for not doing anything? How many times have I regretted not taking action? It's been hundreds, if not thousands, of times every single day since that one. Why couldn't I do anything? Why did I just sit back and watch everything fall apart? Why couldn't I help? Why did I stand there and accept the suffering of my friends, _no mi hermanos_? I ask myself these questions, yet _yo no sé_, I don't know the answer.

_No, _I do know the answer. I just don't want to accept it.

The memories come flooding back, fragments of images come broken apart in my mind. Voices and faces invade my consciousness. Some I can recognize, others seem as if I should know them, but I don't. It was my people first, they wanted to fight. They wanted to join _them_, the _Axis_. Next it was my boss, he told me to stay out of it. We didn't need to join the conflict on either side. I think he was afraid. All the same, I couldn't do anything; I was broke at the time. Is that all that stopped me? _Fucking money problems_?

_No_, it was more than that. I was afraid to take action. _El mundo_, the world was a terribly scary place back then, countries fought each other for power and plain prejudice. It seemed as if the two main opposing forces didn't care about the rest of us, but were only intent on defeating each other. It didn't matter; everything else, everyone else was just collateral damage. Who am I to say such things? I did not take part in the conflict, yet as I look back I realize . . . not doing anything was just the same as hurting everyone, especially those I thought I cared about.

Barely aware of what I'm doing, I pour myself another glass. Cruelly, my mind wanders to what _he's_ doing. _Stop_! Don't do that to yourself; it only makes it hurt more. I think as I throw my head back and down the now sickly sweet drink. But I can't stop myself.

_His_ face comes into my mind. I can see it clearly as if the days of his childhood had only been yesterday. More terrible memories flood my mind. I see _him_. He's sitting there in the mess of things refusing to clean it up. He's frowning at me, cursing at me, and telling me I'm stupid. He's walking away from me, going to visit someone. I'm there saving him but he doesn't thank me. We're sleeping together in the same bed. . . He begins to grow up. I remember the tomato harvests. I remember telling him advice on girls.

I remember. I remember _him_. I remember _everything_. It hurts the most in _mi corazón_, my heart.

_Stop it! Just stop it!_

Another drink will do. Another glass will make the pain go away. I'll make myself forget it all, so it won't hurt anymore. This is the only way to do it. This is the only answer. I think these things to myself as I continue drinking. But it feels as if I'm trying to convince myself that I never had fallen in love with anyone ever before. Why am I lying to myself? Why does my heart hurt so much? Why can't I know the answer? Why this? Why that? _Why me?_

Soon the bottle is empty. I shouldn't go get another one, but I stand up to do so. The wine glass is still in my hand. It catches a reflection of the last of the day's sun rays. I turn to the window to see the setting sun and a sky of hues of red, orange, and yellow. It looks so beautiful, so peaceful. It looks like something he would've loved. It looks like something that shouldn't belong in a broken world like this.

I hit my breaking point. I felt glass fall out of my hand and heard it shatter into pieces on the floor. My limbs went limp as I fell to my knees. I stopped myself from falling completely with my hands. It stung as the glass pieces pierced into my skin. Blood began to mix with the salty tears that ran down my face.

_**Romano**__. . Can you ever forgive me?_

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**Oh my gawd, Spain what are you doing to yourself?! D: Yet another heartbreaking chapter to write. T-T You're even worse than Britain and Britain's pretty bad. I mean Bri-Whoopsies! No spoilers until Britain's Chap. ;) In case ya can't tell I'm the tiniest bit of a SpainxRomano shipper. **

**Okay for sure Liechtenstein part 2 is gonna be up next. And I know I mentioned Lithuania sometime before so yeah he's gonna be after that . . . sometime. Until next time! ;D**


	8. Liechtenstein Part 2

**Disclaimer:**** I own absolutely nothing from the Hetalia franchise. **

**Warning: ****Mature content for mature audiences only. Reader discretion is advised.**

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**Liechtenstein Part 2**

For a time, nothing changed. Big brother still didn't smile. Never before had I realized how empty the house seemed with just the two of us. The atmosphere of the place was tense, stressed as if it everything was on the edge waiting for the one fatal movement that would make it topple down into an endless abyss. The days soon turned into weeks and then months, but not even time could make a difference.

One time Sealand came. He knocked at the door and asked for big brother, but he was, as always, in his office. I told the kid that big brother didn't feel like talking to anyone, which was true for the most part. Sealand looked disappointed, but not surprised. He might have gone to other countries' houses before, but found that no one was home or was just unavailable. I didn't ask him if he did. He bade me good day and then left with his head still held high. I found myself watching him go.

I envied him, slightly. Even though I knew what he was doing was pointless—maybe he did too—he was still doing it anyway. He was looking for a country to, as usual, recognize him as a country. But I knew that it wasn't just that. He looking for countries that were willing to go to meeting. He was looking for countries that wanted the same thing he wanted; for the world to be the way it was before the war.

I was one of those countries.

* * *

I didn't believe that things would change for a long time, but then there was _that day_.

On _that day. . . __**they**_ came. The day had started out normal enough, or at least what normal had been since the war. The morning had passed as usual. Big brother locked himself away and I was left with only myself. Time went by agonizingly slowly. Maybe that day I had wanted something to happen. Maybe I had jinxed us both.

On that evening there was a knock a the door. It was sudden, unusual because we weren't expecting anyone at a time like that. I was going to get the door but big brother beat me to it. He turned to me and told me to go back to my room. But there was something different about him. The way he acted, the way he looked at me was frightening. There was something in his eyes that I don't see often in big brother's eyes. **_Fear_**.

I nodded to him and said I would go. He nodded back distractedly and went out the door. I didn't go to my room, instead I went to the window. I hid mostly behind the curtains so big brother couldn't see me, but from there I had a good view for what was happening outside. My big brother was walking out to meet three people. On the left there was a man with blonde hair pulled back. He stood taller and was bigger than the other two, and had most frightening blue eyes. He had a stern, disapproving frown on his face and his arms were crossed in front of him; he seemed impatient, like an older sibling annoyed by their younger counterpart.

In the middle there was a brown-haired man who had the curled lock of hair that stuck out from the rest of his head. He wore glasses and had dark, sad blue-violet eyes. His clothes were rumpled and his hands were cuffed behind his back. He was gagged by a white cloth tied around his head.

The third man was silver-haired and he strangely had a small yellow bird perched on top right of his head. His red eyes were angry, yet he smiled as if he was excited. Though he was smaller than the blonde haired man, he seemed to be the one that radiated authority. He said a few words, probably a greeting, to big brother. His mouth moved quick, he talked very fast.

He took a few steps to beside big brother. His strides were fast too, he walked with confidence and arrogance. He put his arm graciously around big brother's shoulders and casually began exchanging some words with him. Though I could only see big brother's back, I could tell he was tense, maybe nervous. Not once did big brother seem to let his guard down, it was as if any second he thought the two men would attack him.

After a moment of silence between the two, the silver-haired man moved close to big brother and whispered something in his ear. Whatever he said had struck something in big brother. From the window I could see big brother pull one if his hands into a fist, but he kept his arm down to his side.

The red-eyed man took a step back and smirked. He deliberately took slow easy steps back to the bigger blonde man and brown-haired prisoner. He held out his hands to big brother like someone offering a deal and said more things as I watched.

During the entirety of the conversation the blonde haired man's frown did not leave his face. He just stood there and quietly observed the exchange between his companion and big brother. The brown-haired man did the same, but I could not tell what expression he wore because on the gag that covered the bottom half of his face.

The silver hair man stopped talking and put his arms down. He smiled again, a cruel, sadistic smile— something that should only belong to thing from hell.

From that day on, I always hated that smile.

Big brother stood there thinking of a response, I thought. Suddenly, it started to rain. For now it was a light drizzle, I hadn't even noticed the gray rain clouds move in. It was almost like watching eternity go by, watching the four men in the rain; my big brother, the blonde man, the man with silver hair, and finally their brown-haired prisoner.

Suddenly big brother jerked his head and said some things, the man with red eyes and silver hair smiled again, like he had won a great victory. He said something to his blonde companion and the bigger man pushed their prisoner forward to my big brother, then forced him to his knees.

Big brother took a step forward until he was an arm's length away from the gagged man on his knees. I saw big brother reach to his side and then I saw the shining metal of the gun in big brother's hand.

It might have been just the rain, but I think the prisoner had tears going down his face. Though I couldn't see his face, I just knew big brother was crying too.

Big brother raised his arm up, the barrel of the gun was barely an inch from the violet eyed man's face. I saw big brother pull the hammer back and move his finger to the trigger. ..

There was another moment of eternity. It was complete silence as even the rain drops stopped in midair. I now saw four men in the rain, one tall, big and blonde, the another shorter, silver-haired, but just as powerful as his companion. There was a man with brown hair on his knees in front of the fourth and last man who would be his executioner.

In slow motion I saw a finger on the trigger slowly pull back. The noise was deafening as time returned. A body fell, splashing into the rain. Another object fell to the ground, I just spotted the silver barrel as the executioner's weapon hit a puddle. The same man took a step back, almost in complete disbelief of what he had done.

Mr. Prussia. . . gave _that_ smile again.

I closed my eyes and turned away from the scene. I couldn't watch anymore. I had seen too much. Now I knew why big brother didn't want me to see anything, but I couldn't help myself. The scene kept replaying in my mind. A body and a weapon falling like the rain. A man frozen in fear and regret. A smile from the devil enveloping everything.

_A-ah!_

Big brother's voice tore me away from my thoughts. He had come back in, he had stopped in the doorway. He was drenched with rainwater and kneeled down on his knees. I felt the cold, moist air breeze in the open doorway as I rushed next to his side.

_Big brother!_

I didn't know what to do. He wasn't injured from I could see, no blood or bruising or anything, just wet and cold from the rainwater. I tried asking him what was wrong. I tried talking to him, but he wouldn't talk to me. He refused to even look at me.

_Big brother, I know what happened. I saw everything. I know everything._

The words came out before I had even thought about saying them. It just felt right to say it, to admit the truth in that moment. I told him everything. I told him how I went in his office without his permission, that I had seen the maps, the battle plans, all of it. I told him about Sealand's short visit. And finally I told him that I had watched him as shot that man.

_Liechtenstein._

He said. His voice wavered though, as if he were holding back tears. He turned his head back to me and saw his eyes, a deep, dark beautiful shade of green. As those eyes looked at me, I saw another thing in big brother's eyes I had never seen before: **_regret_**, pure dreadful regret.

Suddenly he threw his arms around me in a gripping hug. Surprised, I gasped, but he wouldn't let go. Gradually I returned the hug, it was strange. For the longest time I had always held the vision that big brother was big, strong, a person I always strived to be like, yet never had big brother felt so small, weak, almost like an orphaned child in my arms.

_I'm sorry._

Big brother wasn't talking to me.

_I'm sorry._

Big brother was talking to Mr. Austria.

_**I'm sorry.**_

* * *

**:'( - I think that would sum up this chapter. Blargh, it's so flippin long and wordy (but just imagine if I hadn't split up the Liechtenstein chapters) and I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while. It's summer times so I'm lazy and don't feel like writing that much. **

**Not sure who's going to be next. . .So many possibilities, so many countries to choose from. . . **

**Until next time! **


	9. Britain

**Disclaimer: ****I don't own anything! **

**Warning: ****Mature content for mature audience only. Reader discretion is advised.**

**AN:**** Okay so there has been some confusion for what actually happened last chapter. To clear things up I can't exactly say no one died or why someone could have killed someone because that would be bad spoilering on my part. But the people who were involved were the blonde (Germany), the silver-haired and red-eyed man (Prussia), the brown-haired and violet-eyed man (Austria), and of course big bro (Switzerland).**

**I also know that's there's probably been confusion of when and where this story takes place. I imagined an alternate Hetalia universe that is darker and grittier than regular Hetalia in which the Axis Powers won WWII and the Allies betrayed each other. In the lil ole summary up there it does say "this is a series of monologues by those unfortunate enough to be on the losing side", so technically this should only be the Allies point of view. But in my view of "in war, no one wins" has expanded the story to the rest of the countries and how they were effected. **

**Hope that clears some things up! :D**

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**Britain **

A man stands before me. He has messy blonde hair. His eyebrows are larger than average. He wears a standard British military uniform and he wears it well. But his mouth curves down into what seems a permanent scowl. His eyes are a dark, forest green, but they are wrong. They are changed. They show the weakness of a dark emptiness the man who has them holds inside.

It's nothing but my reflection. But is _this_ what I really look like? I would be fine with everything, yet it was the eyes the bothered me the most. Those were eyes that even I knew didn't belong to me. Is this what everyone else sees? Do look they look into the eyes of someone who's lost everything? Of someone who's done things that he could never forgive? Do they look into the eyes of someone who turned his back on his own brothers?

_Of course they do._

He spoke to me. _He spoke to me_. He has my voice. No, it can't be. He's him. I'm. . . me. He's not me. Is he?

_Surprised? You shouldn't be. I've been here all this time._

_No. __**SHUT UP**__! Just shut up! I don't want to hear it from you!_

I started yelling at him. I screamed at him. I told him to go away, to leave me alone, to let me back in control. But all he did was laugh, and laugh some more. He likes to watch me suffer.

_We both know that it's already too bloody late for anything like that._

I can't say anything. I know it's true. I made my choice on that fateful day. It was a choice that I couldn't take back; a choice that I regret every single moment of every single day as time passes. Even if I begged on my knees, no one would ever forgive me for what I did. I can't even forgive myself.

America. He was my family. He was my ally. And he. . . He was my brother. I _loved_ him. Look what I've done, I turned him into my own plaything. The torture, the rape, the betrayal, all of it is etched into my memory forever. And it's all_ my_ fault. What happened to me?

_I happened to you._

His voice takes over my mind. He sounds so sweet, so alluring. The man in mirror explains to me that he is the real me. And the real me tells me is that the person I'm acting like now is fabricated personality that I've created out of my insanity. All I have to do to make all my doubts, my memories, and my feelings go away is accept him as myself.

For a moment, I wanted to believe him. The reason was because all I wanted was the pain and confusion to go away. If I accepted his offer, then he could make it happen. He could stop my suffering. But if I did, he would take everything else too. My happiness, my joy, and my love, would be gone, so I would be left with nothing.

Is nothing better than suffering?

_Yes, yes it is._

Says the man in the mirror.

_**No**__, no it isn't._

None of this is right. None of this will help me. He will never help me. He's the kind of man that's only out for himself. A criminal, a deceiver, a godforsaken bastard is what he is. Was I really going to listen to him? Was I really going to surrender myself to this _thing?_ Maybe I was, but I'm not anymore. He's the fake here. He's the one that's been fabricated out of nothing. _I_ am the real me. I know because _**I can remember.**_

I can remember **_them._**

_**Russia**__. . . is a cold country far from me and has a scarred past of violence and bloodshed. He scares me actually, but I'm glad to have him on my side._

_**China**__. . . is a strong nation in Asia and though sometimes I take him for granted, he's extremely wise, a great cook and an even better friend._

_What are you blabbing on about?_

That's it. That's exactly why he's the fake one. It's because he doesn't understand what it's like to have friends. He doesn't know anything about the laughs I've shared, the memories I have, the arguments I've had, or the love I've felt. I know I'm the real one.

_**Canada**__. . . is a large nation in North America. He doesn't speak much and a lot of the time I forget he's there, but he's just as important as any one of us._

_**France.**__ . .is a European country of art and romance. His history shows him as a weakling and he is and I do hate him. Yet I still care about him, because he is my best friend._

I feel my voice raise up in defiance against this fake me. My hands curl up into fists as I begin to finish my tribute to my Allies.

_**America**__. . . is the country that broke away from me so many years ago. He's an idiot and he ends up dragging me in to all of his ridiculous plans, but he was and always will be my little brother!_

At the word _brother_ there was a loud **_CRACK!_**with my fist I had shattered the mirror. Pieces of glass fell on the floor, but he was not gone. In the end I only had succeeded in making more of him. In all those shattered pieces I saw his face. Suddenly he was everywhere, his voice was mocking me, taunting me. I fell on my knees, I felt defeated. Why couldn't I get rid of him?

_Don't you understand? I am you. You are me. You can't just get rid of me._

His voice took over my mind. I felt violated, I felt helpless. I didn't want it to end like this. But he was there, he was everywhere I turned. He was me. I can't let it go like this. I knew what I had to do.

_If you really are me, then the only way to get rid of you. . ._

I grabbed the biggest, sharpest piece of the broken mirror I could find. I gripped it so tightly I could feel the jagged edge cut into my palm. In that piece I could see his face, but there was something different about him. This time he was the one that was powerless.

_**Stop that**__! Hey, what are you doing?!_

_. . . Is to get rid of myself._

A scream filled the air as I jabbed the glass into my shoulder. Blood splattered on the pieces of the broken mirror lying on the floor. He faded away, but not before telling me he would be back.

Right then and there I wanted to collapse on the floor, but then I heard a knocking at the door.


	10. Lithuania

**Disclaimer:**** Only in my dreams will I ever own the Hetalia franchise.**

**Warning:**** Mature content for mature audience only. Reader discretion is advised. Seriously, the topic you are about to read is a serious one. **

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**Lithuania**

Memories are nothing more than what we can recall of times we wished still existed. They are moments in life that we do not want to forget, but instead cherish as if they were our last true treasures. I remember the times before the war. They were happy times and though Mr. Russia scared me just as much, there was something about him that made him seem as if he did care about us. In his own strange way of course.

I also remember Poland. He was always as introverted and flamboyant as ever. He was my friend. Now that I think back it makes me laugh. I haven't seen him in a long time. I miss him. I want to see him again, surprisingly enough. But I don't think that I'll be able to see him again for another very long time. I've found that it hurts knowing something like that.

I believe I speak for everyone when I say that every nation has changed since the war. The world is no longer the place that it once was. Even the winter seems harsher, colder, lonelier. It's almost as if the earth itself knows what's happening with its inhabitants.

Latvia, Estonia and I have noticed that Mr. Russia is not the same man he was before. He does not smile, he doesn't give pleasant or unpleasant remarks, he does not even laugh. He, like the winter, has turned harsher and colder. He is strict, unapproachable, and willing to strike me more often than usual. So far I've kept his attention on me, he hasn't laid hands on the other two, which I'm grateful for. It seems as if he's holding back something. It could be anger or a deep sense of regret.

Memories are not always happy. For some reason I remember that day very clearly; the day in which the war ended. Mr. Russia had betrayed his fellow Allies, along with France and Britain. I still don't know why any of them would do such a thing, but maybe it's just one of those things I'll never quite understand. Maybe Mr. Russia had done it to protect us, or either of his sisters. Maybe France had done it to keep himself from being destroyed. Maybe Britain had done it to. . .Actually I can't speculate why he had done it. Britain was the closest to America and Canada, but he still betrayed them.

Most of it just doesn't make sense to me.

Sometimes I want to believe that the memories I have are fake, that the life I have now is a dream, and that one day I'll wake up and Poland will be there wanting to paint something pink. Latvia, Estonia, and I will continue with not fully but trying to understand each other's cultures and traditions. And Mr. Russia will put on that fake, but meaningful smile of his.

But none of that will ever happen, because this is our new reality. I can't change that, instead I will have to live with it. The thing is. . . I just don't want to.

* * *

One day I thought I couldn't take it anymore. I don't remember everything that happened, but I do remember the day had gone like any other since the end of the war. I guess that's why I can't truly recall everything, the days blended together, routinely and autonomously. It felt like a worn out machine continuing to do its job, though it was too far gone to be repaired.

What I do remember is that is was sundown. The colors of the sky were brilliant shades of red, orange, and yellow. It was strange, I had realized, to see something so beautiful in a world that wasn't so. On that day, I had wanted it to be the last thing I would ever see. I had wanted it to be my last memory in this broken world. I remember tying the sheets together into a makeshift rope. It wasn't perfect but it didn't matter, I didn't care at that point. I just wanted out of that world.

I remember it being so easy to do. The sheets felt soft around my neck, almost like a _scarf. _It was easy too, to find a to hang up the noose and find a chair to stand on. All of it was too easy. Did that make wrong? Should I have seen the signs? Should it have been _that_ _easy_?

I didn't know.

Strangely the hardest part was willing myself to step off. I had to let everything go. My friends. My family. All my love and all my memories. If I really was going to give up and everything, I had to let it all go.

I was stepping off. I was falling for a second of eternity in the air, but I never fell. The rope never caught, my neck never snapped. I never died.

Someone caught me. He was big. He held me in his arms and he wouldn't let go. He was wearing a scarf too. His hair was a pale gray blonde and his eyes were dark, divine violet. His nose was larger than average, but his mouth curved down into a frown. Why wasn't he smiling like he always was?

He said my name. I looked up at him. I felt so small in his arms. And he felt so big, so protective, so safe. I never wanted to leave those arms, but it was inevitable. I would have to return to that godforsaken _reality_ tthat I hated so much. This was the only way I could leave. Surely, he would understand that.

My hand went back to the noose around my neck, but he stopped me with his own. His grip was tight was he held my hand. He leaned in and he whispered something to me.

_I will never let anyone harm you, not even yourself._

* * *

**Seriously dudes, suicide is a serious topic. And no one should ever do such a thing. That's why Russia's there for Lithuania, I mean if every suicidal person had a person like Russia, a person who truly cares about her/him, to stop her/him, then the world might just be a better place. I don't know, but I send this chapter out to all those who have thought of or have been affected by suicide. Someone's out there for you, I just know it. :)**


	11. Switzerland

**Disclaimer: ****Y'all should know by now I don't own anything. :(**

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**Switzerland**

_What have I done?_

I'm here, alone in my room. I don't know what time it is, but I don't care. I can't sleep, not after the terrible thing I've done. I can hear the rain drumming steadily on the window. Why does it have to rain? The rain reminds me of that day. That horrible day I. . . I hurt him. I hurt my best friend. His name was Austria.

I can still see his face in my head. I can see those eyes looking at me. Why were they looking at me like that? Why were was he looking at me like _that?_ Those eyes. That face. I. . .hurt them. I hurt him. Why did I hurt him?

It's my fault. Everything is my fault. What did I do? Why the hell did I do it? _He _made me do it. It's all his fault! He's to blame, not me. There's another face in my head. He's got silver hair and a devilish, sadistic smile. I hate when he smiles like that. It means he's his own twisted kind of happy; it means he's torturing me. Then he's eyes too. They're red as blood and they take over my mind. With those eyes, that bastard controls me. I just can't do anything about it.

Suddenly there's a loud **_Rrrriing-Rrrriing_**/ Huh? A phone call this late at night? Who would. . . Then it hits me. No, no it can't be her. Not. . _.Hungary_. I hesitate and instead of answering let it ring for another moment. I can't talk to her, not after what I did. Does she know? Of course she knows, that's why she's calling. But what if she doesn't? Will I have to be the one to tell her that I was the one who. . . Hurt her lover?

I can't take this anymore. I have to answer it. My hand goes to reach for the phone but then I hesitate again. What if it isn't Hungary? What if it's _him_? What if he's calling to come taunt me again and make me do more terrible things? Wasn't Austria enough? Wouldn't he be satisfied with that? Who am I kidding? I know him better than that. Even everything I ever had would never be enough for him.

My hand picks up the receiver and I bring it next to my ear. I don't say anything. There's silence on the other line for what seems like a second of eternity. But then I hear a voice.

**_Switzerland?_**

I was right the first time. It's her.

_Switzerland, it's me Hungary. I'm calling from Spain's place._

She goes on to tell me that she's been there at Spain's house for the past week. Spain? I haven't seen him in since the war. .. He had locked himself up in his own country. She tells me she found him drunk, passed out half-dead on the floor. If she hadn't come, then he probably would've died.

She tells me that Spain's country is going through a terrible drought. There's famine and a new disease is spreading across the rural areas; it won't be long until it reaches the cities and possibly the surrounding areas. It started out in birds, and now it's spreading to people. It's not fatal, yet.

She stops talking for a moment. I think she's waiting for me to respond, but I don't. I don't know how. I don't know what to say. 'Sorry' that Spain is going through rough times? We all are. 'Sorry' that he almost killed himself? I don't blame him. 'Sorry' that I practically killed the person who you loved? No, she should never forgive me. I can't even forgive myself for what I've done. What I've done is unforgivable.

_I know what happened. I know everything. Liechtenstein told me. And Switzerland, I forgive you._

No. No, what is she saying? She can't say those things. She just can't. She should hate me for the selfish bastard that I am. She should curse me forever. She should want to kill me, no death would be too easy, she should torture me until I can't speak because I've screamed out in pain so much. She has to do anything but forgive me. I can't. . .I can't be forgiven!

_I'm __**sorry.**_

I say the words without realizing I am. What am I saying? What am I sorry for? Everything. I'm sorry that Spain is going through horrible ordeals. I'm sorry that the Axis won that fucking war and now use all of us as their play toys. I'm sorry that the Allies couldn't do anything but betray each other. I'm sorry that I've acting like a awful big brother as of late. I'm sorry that I hurt Austria. I'm sorry that we all have to exist in a cruel, broken, terrible world like this.

_I'm sorry. Hungary I. . .I'm sorry. I had the worst choice to make. Prussia, he. . .made me choose. It was either Austria or he would've. . .he would've hurt Liech-_

I can't get the rest of the words out. My voice stops and starts as if I'm crying but no tears are coming out. I've already cried all the tears I have left. In my head I'm reliving that nightmare of a memory. It's raining. The devil is there with is sadistic smile. My friend is in front of me and there's a gun pointed at his head. That's my gun. I'm the one who's going to shoot him. I'm the one who's going to hurt him. I'm gong to ki-

_Switzerland! It's okay now. You're okay now. You don't have to torture yourself anymore._

Her voice rips me from my mind. Suddenly I'm back in my room. It's still raining outside. I wonder why the rain doesn't seem to have an end. For all I know, it could go on forever, but I don't want a forever rain; no one does. I want to stop it for all of us. I want to the sun again. I want to see Austria again. But can anyone really stop the rain?

The woman on the line tells me she knows about my plans. She says that maybe it could work. There's plenty of pockets of rebellion in her country and in America and Canada too. Those in Spain's country that can are willing to fight against the Axis. Iceland has hundreds of refugees from other countries and she's sure he'll help out too. And then there's even rumors that even France is willing to turn against the Axis. But soon the chatter of resistance will reach the ears of the Axis, if it hasn't already. She informs me that of we're going to make an attack, we've got to do it now.

What does she mean by 'now'? 'Now' as in today? Tomorrow? Next week? I wouldn't care; I would do it anytime. It would be a chance to fight, to rebel, to redeem myself for my actions, yet it's almost too good to be true. But what if 'now' is already too late? What if _they've_ already found out about the plan? We can't just resist against a power so controlling, so overpowering, so evil. They basically control the world. If I think about it, then it's almost like we're trying to do that impossible thing. It's like we're trying stop the rain.

_I have to tell you something._

_What is it? Haven't you said enough?_

My words came out harsher than I intended. Instantly, I wanted to take them back, but also I wanted to know what she would say. What could she say to make me change my mind? Deep down in my heart, I know I've given up hope. Those plans that I made seemed to be my last attempt to not give in, but as the days went by, I had realized that everything was just pointless. I could never change the world to the way it was before. I could never stop the rain. I just can't ask for redemption or atonement. All of it was just an impossible wish that would never come true.

_ Austria forgives you for what you did, Switzerland. __**He forgives you.**_

* * *

**What will Switzerland choose to do? Can he really ever redeem himself? Oh you might find out next chapter~! It'll either be Iceland or France, I haven't really decided. . . **

**OMG! Hey would you all mind looking over at the drawings I illustrated for some chapters? Yes, not only am I fanfiction author but I also am an amateur artist in the works! ;D**

**Chapter America: art/Hetalia-A-Broken-World-Chapter-America-Repost- 388791996 (This is a repost because something was screwed up with the first time I tried to upload it . . .) **

**Chapter Lithuania: art/Hetalia-A-Broken-World-Chapter-Lithuania-39005 4860**

**Chapter Romano: art/Hetalia-A-Broken-World-Chapter-Romano-39151944 3**

**And a preview to France's Chapter!: art/Hetalia-A-Broken-World-Chapter-France-39151718 9**

**EDIT: Oh my dearies! It seems as if the links won't work (I didn't know lol). . . Hmmm. . .I still would love to show you, so check out my deviantart page, ~SecondKnight is my username there. Hopefully if you try to look me up you'll find me and le artwork! **

**Until next time~! :D**


	12. Iceland

**Iceland**

It had rained all day, but now with the day near over, the clouds were giving way to a beautiful red, yellow and orange sky. The sun was setting over the sea. The waves crashed against the rocky shoreline as I hugged my knees. I was sitting at the edge of small, black rocky cliff. A small black and white bird with a colorful beak was lying beside me. He was curled up in a ball, somehow sleeping through all of it.

And by "it", I meant the present day. I meant the life we led through this broken world. The war ended a long time ago and it had left its terrible scar across the globe. The Axis had won, somehow I had escaped their grasp, but others weren't as lucky. Why were there so few like me? Why was I cursed with the gift of freedom? It doesn't feel right. I don't feel free. I feel lonely. I feel like I miss everyone and everything. I just want the world to be like it was before. Because before, I was able to see everyone every single day of the year. Some of them were idiots, some of them scared me, some of them were just plain stupid and I hated them! But still, I had them with me. It didn't matter. They were my friends. I loved all of them.

I haven't seen them in a long time. I don't know if I ever will see them again. But I want to see them again.

_Finland_. _Sweden_. _Denmark_. _Norway_.

I say their names aloud, but only the sea can hear me. Even with only the sea, I doubt it's listening. I wish it could listen. I have so many questions. Could it give me the answers? Why was I spared? Was weren't they able to get away too? Why do I miss them so much? Why am I the only one left?

_Why_ _were_ _they_ _all_ _taken_ _away_ _from_ _me_?

The sea refuses to answer.

I can only hear the crashing of the waves against the cliff. I can only feel the the sea spray splash onto my skin. In my heart, there is an emptiness that no one can fill.

The little bird beside me suddenly lifts up his head. He turns to me with his head tilted to one side. It's almost as if he's trying to understand me, but can't. I smile a sad smile to him and pat him on the head. He likes it, I can tell by his almost purr-like chirp. He then lies back down, satisfied with the sign of affection.

I envy the little bird. He's blissfully ignorant of the broken world around him. He doesn't have to know what life really is. He just has live a day-to-day life. Most of the time he'll forget what happened the day before. All the time he'll never have to worry about tomorrow. Every day he doesn't have to think about love that he's felt and ones he's lost.

I wish I was bird. If I was, then I could fly away to anywhere. I could fly away to where ever they are. I could be with all of them again.

The sun's gone done beyond the horizon. The brilliant sky of warm colors fades to dark blue. The endless sea also changes into the black of the night. The first of the stars begin to appear. They look like little white dots in an infinite void of darkness. There are so many stars. If I make a wish on one, will it come true? But that only works on shooting stars. . .

Those twinkling little dots begin to remind me of something else. **_Christmas_****_tree_****_lights_**. I recall the holidays of years before. The world was happy then. Everyone was in joyful moods and holiday cheer. There was laughter and smiles and cake and presents. We were all together. Finland would dress up like Santa and Denmark would drink too much eggnog. Sweden and Norway were there too. . .

Will we ever have Christmases like that again?

I think I've lost track of the days since the end of war. It's not that it matters anymore either. It could be spring, summer, autumn, even Christmas day, but it wouldn't matter. They're not here with me. Does that mean none of the days will matter anymore?

**_No_**! _It_ _can't_ _be_ _that_ _way!_

I want to see them again. I want them to come back to me. Wherever they are, why can't they hear me? Why won't they come back to me? I look up at those lights in the sky. I wonder where they are. Are they somewhere where they can see those same stars?

_Please_. _Just_ _please_ _come_ _back_ _to_ **_me_**.

My voice goes out to the water, but the sea still refuses to answer me.


	13. Hungary

**_AN: Wow, omg I haven't updated in such a long frucking time. But now I'm back~! :D Hopefully y'all can forgive me well, going on sudden month-long hiatus, but here's a kinda long chapter to say I'm sorry. Originally was going to spit this up too, but I sad Hell with it and decided to make it one huge chapter._**

**_I don't know how much longer this series will last. I was thinking a few more chapters then an epilogue type thing. Don't worry, I like to end things with a bang! ;)_**

* * *

**Hungary**

_Romano!_

The man with messy brown hair calls out the name. I saw his eyes open wide with fear and confusion. For a moment he can't tell where he is, but then he realizes that he's in his bed. He's safe, but the person he cares about isn't. He moves his bandaged palm to his forehead, which is covered in cold sweat.

_ Spain._

This time I'm the one who calls out his name. He suddenly turn to me; he hadn't noticed I was there. I stood in the doorway with my hand resting on the frame. He says my name, but it comes out more like a question. He doesn't understand why I'm there. I don't respond to him immediately. I don't want to. I think he was being selfish when he did it. Yet who can blame him? Having a little selfishness is one of the few things we can have in a broken world like this.

_If you were trying to kill yourself, you would've been damn near successful. But of course, we're not... _

I don't finish the thought, he knows. I'm right of course. He knew exactly what he was doing; that's why he did it. He wanted to die, yet he can't. It's just like me, and the rest of out kind in the world. "Immortality" can be just as much as a curse as it is a gift. Sometimes "death" can be out greatest unattainable wish.

He turns his head to away, as if ashamed of what he had done. No, not just the recent, but in the past. He believes that if he had done something differently, then none of this would have ever happened. That might be true, then again, it might not. We'll just have to be left wondering.

His eyes go down to his bandaged hands. I see them close. He winces in pain, then they open again. He asks why I'm here and how long. Again, I don't respond immediately, instead I walk over to the window. It would have been nice view from here on this second story. On the other side I see the deserted streets on a Spanish city. It looks empty, dead, sad even on this bright and sunny day. The sun beats down sad streets that once housed so many crowds of people. It seems to have that desolate feel I can't shake off.

I told him I arrived late last night. I had found him passed out in his office. I took him to his room and banged him up, for there had been broken glass all over the floor and some had pierced his palms. He had been unconscious the whole time, but he had muttered things in his sleep; names like /Romano/, /Italy/, and /Germany/. As to why I was there, he already knew. For some reason, he was the only "free" country left in Europe, the only nation not conquered by the Axis. But we both knew, it couldn't last that way for long.

He talks back to me, but avoids responding to what I said. His voice remains in monotone, and I can't his expression because I was still looking out that window. He tells me of his own misfortunes; starvation, disease, government officials abandoning him. He tells me he's sure his country will collapse before the Axis even have a chance to-

_Hungary._

He say my name again. I turn back to him. His head's still turned; he still refuses to look at me.

_What if we tried? What if we become the ones to attack and then somehow... miraculously... won? Do you think that..._

He hesitates for a moment.

_Do you think that I can... that I can-_

I stop him before he says anything more. I already know what he's trying to say. _Can he be forgiven_? That's what he wishes to know. And he's asking me? I can't give him an exact answer, instead I can only tell him what I know from my experience.

I walk over to him, beside his bed. He moves away, his back turned to me, but I gently take one of his bandaged hands in my own. Slowly I sit on the edge of the bed and put my arms around him in an awkward embrace from behind. At first he's stiff, he doesn't know how to respond. It's been a long time since he's shown such a sign of affection. He might of forgotten what it means to embrace. But then, slowly, he remembers. He turns back to me and instinctively his arms come around my body. He holds me close. He doesn't want to let go. He feels that if he lets go, he'll be alone once more. I feel the same way.

_Spain, If he truly loves you and if you truly love him, then you don't need me to tell you the answer._

He pulls me tighter and I can feel him shaking. Silently, he cries in my arms.

* * *

What time is it?

Does it really matter? I'm walking through the empty hallways of a house I that once was my home. There is no sun, only the gray clouds blanket the sky. It's going to rain again, isn't it? It always rains at times like this.

I don't see these hallways as empty, desolate and dead, instead I see a bright sun shining through the windows. There's a small child in a dress. He's smiling while he hums a strange tune. He cleans with a broom too big for himself to handle. I'm there with him. I see myself laugh out loud as I clean the windows.

There's piano music in the air, a beautiful, elegant song I've long forgotten the name to. Each note meant something, whether it be joy, happiness, sadness, or anger, each keystroke was played with passion. It was filled with a type of love that only one man I ever knew could give to a simple instrument.

Will I ever hear that song again?

It seemed like yesterday that man was playing that song. It seemed only yesterday that small child was humming that playful tune. It seemed not long ago **_I_**was smiling, happy and safe. If only the world had stayed that way. It would have been perfect.

Now hallways are silent, for no more music fills the air. The small child I knew has long disappeared from my world. When did yesterday become yesterday? When did things change so much? Where was I? What happened? It was the war. It's always the reason.

I can't keep looking to the past. It's in the past; I can't bring it to the present. But I wish to god I could. If he's listening to my pleas, maybe he'll give me some sign. I look out to the gray sky, I don't know why, there's still no sun.

I must leave this place. I can't stay here anymore. This is no longer my home, safe and happy. The people I loved no longer are here. There's no reason for me to feel anything for this place. But yet... this place is the place where yesterday still lives on. I turn my back to the empty hallway of past memories. As I walk out the door, I also walk away from my life of yesterday.

* * *

**_No!_**

I scream out his name, he falls to the floor, A giant red stain soaks through his shirt. He can't catch himself for his hands are bound behind his back. He grunts in pain, he's crying again, but yet he won't scream. He won't give **_him_** that satisfaction.

A man with silver hair and red eyes laughs as he holds that bloodied sword in his hand.

A person with blonde hair and blues eyes holds me back. I struggle for him to release me, but he won't let go of my wrist. I scream, I yell, I shout but no amount of resistance seems to effect him. He just gives me a cold, emotionless stare through those blue eyes.

Without warning he suddenly release me. I jerk my wrist away from him and give him my cold stare. Like my actions earlier, it doesn't affect him. He turns away from me and motions for the man with silver hair to leave with him. His brother at first pouts, but then listens to his younger. As he leaves, I can only see his back.

From that point of view, he looked like someone I once knew. Someone I had laughed with, joked with, shared all those awkward and familiar moments with. That was someone I had grown up with and cared about. It was someone that annoyed the hell out of me, yet he still made me like him. Sure he was sometimes a jerk, self-centered, and selfish, but he was _my_ friend. I was _his_ friend. I loved him. He loved me.

But now that man with silver hair and red eyes is the one man I wish I could kill myself.

_Tomorrow_.

Says the blonde man before he leaves. The man with silver hair says nothing.

I turn back to the man on the floor. Blood pools around him, a giant jagged cut is across his chest. I try to hold him up, but then he begins coughing up blood. He forces himself to sit up, but he leans against me. I tell him to stop, my voice cracks and I'm crying. I hold him against me, I feel a warm sticky substance on my chest, but it doesn't matter. I don't care. He's not gonna die. He's not gonna die. He can't die. He will not die. He-

_Hungary, stop crying._

His voice is weak too as his head rests on my shoulder. Somehow I stop myself from shedding more tears. Even at a time like this, when he's in such a state, he's still trying to protect me. He doesn't lie to me. He knows that things aren't going to be ok or if they ever will be again. He doesn't try to cover up his own wounds or dismiss them. He knows he's made mistakes and that others around him have as well.

He whispers in my ear and tells me that I must leave this place. After tomorrow it will be too dangerous for me to stay. It doesn't matter where I go, just as long as it's away from here. At first I resist. I tell him I can't go. I can't leave him. I say that somehow I'll stop them from taking him away. But I know that I can't. Both of them and the rest of the Axis are too strong for me.

_Hungary, sometimes it's alright to say goodbye._

_But I can't do it. I won't do it. __**I don't want to lose you**__!_

We've already lost everything. Nations that we thought we could trust have all turned against us and themselves. There's nothing but chaos and suffering in this terrible, broken world. The only thing I have left is you. I can't lose you. /

_ Austria, please, I-_

I can't get my words out. No matter what I say, no matter how much I want to, I can't deny the fate of tomorrow. And neither can he.

He says that we shouldn't try to do something as impossible as that. Sometimes it's better to let that thing called destiny take us where it wants. He tells me that I shouldn't hate any nation for the acts they've done or will do. He says he's already forgiven them, because even after all the unspeakable acts, he still loves them. He knows deep down that they still care for him too, that they still care about the others around them. Right now you could say they've locked up their feelings, denying them so it can't effect there plans. But soon enough they'll have to let go. It's only matter of time.

He says it's almost funny, how cruel this world can be.


End file.
